Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(38)

“Do you have anything from yours?”

“The athame you chose was my mother’s. Perhaps her hand guided you to place it on the altar tonight. Cast the circle.”

Her eyes went wide. “Me? I’ve never cast a circle for a sabbat.”

“Do so now.”

Nervous, afraid she’d make a mistake and earn his wrath, she started slowly. She placed candles at the four points. Lighting another with breath, she moved clockwise around the altar. With her will, she flamed the East candle.

She had to take a couple of calming breaths, work to clear her mind of nerves and doubt.

“Guardian of the East, goddess of the Air, we call you, we beseech your powers of knowledge and wisdom, keep watch over us within this circle, cast in love and trust.”

She glanced toward Mallick for approval or criticism, but he said nothing. She moved to the South point, called upon the guardian, the energy and will of Fire. Then, as her confidence built, she moved West, to water, to passion. And finally North and Earth and strength.

Despite the wind, the flames rose true when she turned to Mallick. “And so the circle is cast. Will you enter in the light and the love of the goddess?”

“I will.” He stepped in. “You are priestess tonight. Call.”

Fallon’s throat went dry as she lit a black candle. “Dark Mother, goddess of death and rebirth, hear your servant who honors you. I ask your blessing. At this place, in this hour, I call you to use your power. Lift the veil between the worlds so those who came before hear our words.”

She lit the next. “Dark Father, Lord of the Underworld, hear your servant who honors you. I ask your blessing. At this place, in this hour, I call you to use your power. Guard and protect as the veil thins, keep safe all without and within.”

“And the flames rise,” Mallick said, “as the goddess and her consort hear you.”

She felt power, flickers of it like the candle flames—tiny burns that brought both pleasure and pain. Without Mallick’s bidding, she continued, speaking words that simply came to her mind, her heart, her tongue.

“On this night, with this light, embracing dark its counterpart, we welcome spirits with full heart. All from world to world did pass, we offer our hand to grasp until with daybreak you depart.”

She stepped forward, took the apple and bolline, cutting the fruit crossways, exposing the symbolic pentagram within. After taking a small bite from one half, she placed them in the cauldron, added herbs, bits of bread, wine from the chalice, and struck the flame beneath with her hand.

Taking the wand, she lifted it, thrust her power into it so it shot stars through the smoke.

“Here an offering to all who come, with love to all and hate toward none. And this light, burn bright through the night your steps to guide while you abide.”

Did she feel the wind stir? Mallick wondered. Did she feel the breath of the gods on her?

“Here, Dark Mother, cauldron of death and rebirth, one of Air, one of Earth. Dark Father, blade of protection, blade of blood both strong and keen, if I am what you have foreseen, take mine.”

She took the athame, scored her palm, let her blood drip into the cauldron.

To Mallick’s dazzled eyes, light burst from it, showered over the altar, turned the circle into sunlight.

“Blood of your blood, blood of mine here in tribute they entwine. As slowly dies the year, living and dead have much to fear. Your light, my light, light of those spirits passed and yet to be, I call you now to join with me to fight the dark, to make our mark. If I am your child, inhabit me. As you will, so mote it be.”

She set down the wand as it went quiet. Taking her braid in one hand, she sliced it off with the athame. “And here I make my pledge. And here, a symbol of the child rising to warrior.”

She let out a long, long sigh. The light of the cauldron ebbed to a quiet glow. The candles that had speared up like torches slipped into gentle flickers in the dark.

With his skin still tingling, his heart still drumming, Mallick stepped toward her. When he laid a hand on her shoulder, she jolted as if she’d awakened from sleep, or a trance.

And so, he thought, she had.

She stared at him, her eyes dark and dazed.

“It was … all through me, all over me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“At first it was what I knew from Mom, or mostly. But then … it was just what I knew, and it got stronger and stronger. I feel a little sick.”

“It was a great deal all at once.” Without thinking, he picked up the chalice, offered it.

She sipped, and the child of thirteen made a face of pure disgust. “What is that?”

Amused, he shook his head. “It’s just wine. A sip won’t hurt you. We’ll close the circle, and you can have a little food, some water, rest.”

“I feel all …” She stopped, staring with dismay and horror at the braid still in her hand. “I cut my hair.”

“Yes.”

“I cut my hair off. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Girl, I’m not certain the power of the gods could have stopped you.”

“But my hair.”

“Will grow again. Can you close the circle?”

“Yeah, I can do it.”

When it was done, he heated a little of the soup they’d had for supper. Though she only ate a few spoonsful, she drank water like a camel.