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Chapter Seven
Tamsin
Dinner is ready when I get back to the house, some sort of hearty, delicious stew with potatoes and herbs and beef that Nessa cooked up. We’re in one of the parlors since the demons have taken over the dining room.
“You are thoroughly spoiling me,” I say with a groan after my first bite. “I forgot what a good cook you are, Nessa.”
She smiles like the sun. “I doubt you’ve had a single proper meal in New York this entire time. It’s the least I can do.”
“I’m sure they have very fine food in Manhattan,” Ainsley says with a roll of her eyes at her mother.
“It’s nothing like this, though,” I say.
“I have some skill, no doubt,” Nessa says, “But it’s the land that truly gives it flavor. There is spirit in the earth and the water and the sky that grows and touches the things that went into this meal. It’s not been depleted and ruined by man.”
I take another bite, closing my eyes to savor it. “I think you’re exactly right, Nessa.”
We eat in silence for several moments, and then Ainsley says, “There’s a coven gathering tonight, Tamsin. You should come with us.”
“Aye, it’s been far too long,” Nessa adds.
I fidget uncomfortably in my chair. There are a million reasons why that’s a bad idea. I don’t really want to announce my presence to too many people around here. I also don’t want to get judged more after what Blake has already thrown my way. And what’s most upsetting is the thought of seeing all those women, feeling all that magic…I’m afraid I’ll regret my decision to give mine up all those years ago. No point opening a door that will soon be closed again.
But I don’t say any of that. Sometimes the simplest answer is best. “Someone has to stay with Luciana and the others.” I raise a hand when Nessa and Ainsley both offer to stay so I can go. “It’s alright. I would feel terrible if you missed a coven gathering on my account. Please, go. I’ll be fine.”
Nessa looks like she might argue, but she glances at me and then shakes her head. “Ahh, I recognize that glint in your eye. There’s not a lot that can change your mind when you’ve made it up, Tamsin MacPherson. You always were a stubborn girl, and apparently that hasn’t changed.”
She grins to soften her words, and I grin back at her.
The sun has fallen by now, and I know since it’s the full moon the gathering will last for several hours longer than usual. I insist on doing the dishes so Nessa and Ainsley can head out to meet with the other witches. After they leave, I head into the dining room to check on Luciana and to continue working on the cure. My walk with Thistle earlier had cleared my head enough that I’d already thought up another variation of the serum to try.
I get to work with my test tubes and beakers and burners. With each new version, I change one thing. It may be the same ingredients but just in different ratios. Or I may add or subtract an ingredient. It’s hard to know what will work on demonic blood cells, since obviously I’ve never tried to cure something like this in my career.
As I work, my magic starts to buzz through my veins again. Once or twice, I even catch a green glow coming off my fingers. I shake my hands in an attempt to dispel it. I definitely need to get Nessa to bind it for me again tomorrow. I’d been too distracted today getting everything set up and diving into my first serious testing since escaping the lab to remember to ask her.
Hours pass, and a glance at my watch tells me it’s approaching midnight. I’m getting bleary-eyed from staring through a microscope half the night, so I take a break and step out onto the back patio. The cold shoots into me like an arrow, and the stars overhead sparkle in the most phenomenal way. You can’t see the stars this brightly past the light pollution in New York. I stand for a couple minutes and just marvel at them.
My gaze sweeps up into the hills across the lake. I know the coven is gathered there, even though I can’t see them. They meet in a small valley called the Valley of Souls, a place where our people have gathered for thousands of years, witches and warlocks both. As long as people have lived in these parts, back to the time of the pagans.
I’m surprised by the sudden longing that wraps around my heart. I miss so many things about this place. My parents, Luciana, Blake, Nessa, and Ainsley. The land itself, which sings in my veins. But also, all the witches I grew up with. And magic. I miss my magic, even though I’d been so furious at its failure all those years ago.
I turn and look back toward the house. If I use a transportation spell, I won’t be gone more than ten minutes. I can watch from afar. No one will have to know that I’ve come back to Scotland, danger snapping at my heels. I’ll stay in the shadows and just watch. After several minutes of conflicted contemplation, I decide to go. Hopefully performing a spell will let off some of this excess magic that’s been building up since yesterday when I arrived. That’s what finally decides it for me.
It feels strange, summoning my magic. I’d only done it a couple of times since Ven accidentally restored it, back when we were escaping the lab in Costa Rica. It’d been necessary to fight our way out past the guards. I’ve avoided it since then, other than putting the spell in place to keep anyone from tracking me. But despite my lack of practice, it comes to me now like a familiar friend, rushing in eagerly. The flow of heat and the prickle of energy like lightning makes me gasp.
I wrap it around myself, then picture one of the hills overlooking the Valley of Souls. I’d been there a million times in my youth, so I don’t have any issue conjuring a crystal-clear image of it in my mind, something that’s crucial to any transportation spell. And then, in the blink of an eye, I’m there.
In the valley below is a large stone table, more of a platform really, about twenty feet square. A huge bonfire burns in the center of it, created magically so as not to char the stone. Four additional, smaller fires burn on the grass on each side of the table. Those are made with real wood, and I can smell the smoke on the crisp midnight air.
Witches dance around each fire, about three dozen in total. Their laughter fills the sky, and their magic creates a kaleidoscope of color that shifts and spins. The full moon glows directly overhead, painting everything in a silvery light. It’s so beautiful and wondrous it takes my breath away.
My magic surges out of me without thought, attempting to join with that of the others. I quickly rein it back in, and the green glow that pulsed off my body dissipates in the breeze blowing across the grass. I don’t want anyone to see me, and if I start shooting off light that obviously isn’t going to work. Suppressing my magic feels as if I’m cutting off something vital, like blood or oxygen. A single, salty tear rolls down my left cheek.
My initial instincts were correct, and I should have listened to them. It was a mistake coming up here. I’d turned from this path a long time ago. That’s not my coven down there, not any longer. I don’t belong.
Because I’m not a witch anymore.
