Books by Maggie Shayne (280 page)

"Dinna be disappointed if the spell doesna work right away, child," the one who looked to be the eldest said softly. ' 'It oft' takes several tries before the rains come. We simply repeat our rite until they do."

Arianna nodded and took the small pouch the old woman handed her, looping its drawstring 'round her wrist.

"In honor of your initiation, Arianna, we've decided to let you perform tonight's incantation."

I saw Arianna's huge eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, but I—"

"You know what to do, lass," the plump one said with a smile, patting Arianna's arm. "We've taught you well."

"Aye," said the third, the one who seemed to personify

grace, and whose face defied her years. "An' besides, 'tis in the grimoire."

Drawing a deep breath, Arianna opened the book. She clutched the dagger in her right hand. The pendant hung 'round her neck. The three Crones moved to the center of the circle, surrounded the balefire, and slowly began to move in a deosil direction. Arianna stood close to the fireside, so they were circling her, as well. Laying the dagger upon the open book, she opened the small pouch the old one had given her, and withdrew herbs, which she pitched into the dancing flames. Her face was a study in concentration as she worked.

Something about her touched me just then. I couldn't have said exactly what. But it had to do with the golden fire glow on her cheeks, and the light in her eyes. Or perhaps with the curve of her lips, or the slender grace of her neck.

Lowering her gaze to the book, she began to read the words written there in a voice that came soft and uncertain.

Ancient Forces of the Sky.. .

Winds and Clouds and Rain on high . ..

Rainbow Goddess, hear my cry...

I saw Arianna's shoulder's grow straighter, saw her chest expand as she inhaled, and I knew she was feeling it; the surge of power. In our kind, it was magnified, and in a rite like this, she would
have to
feel it. She may not know it for what it was, but its essence would fill her; the very essence of the Divinity she'd called upon.

She lifted her head, chin pointing skyward, and her voice came louder now, and firm.

Mother Earth is parched and dry,

Without thy dewy kiss, we die,

I call forth rainclouds. Draw thee nigh!

I glanced skyward, saw the barest hint of shadow crossing the face of the full moon. Quickly I fixed my gaze

on Arianna again. Partly concerned for her, and for the reactions of her teachers, but mostly ... I felt pride.

Her body seemed to elongate and tense as she let the book fall to the ground, and lifted her arms over her head, dagger pointing at the sky. Her voice came as strong as thunder then, deeper than before, echoing unnaturally in the night.

I
call forth the rain!

I call forth the rain!

I call forth the rain!

And as I will it, so mote it be!

A clap of thunder punctuated her command. The wind came then. A harsh downward sweep of it sent her white robe snapping behind her and her golden hair sailing. The Crones stopped circling, went still, and looked at one another with wide eyes. Then they were staring at Arianna as if they had never seen her before, and looking skyward as if in fear.

Arianna noticed none of it. She remained as she was, arms stretched to the sky, eyes closed, body buffeted by the wind as she silently commanded the rain to fall. She seemed completely lost in the power she wielded.

Dark clouds surged as if from all directions, collecting in one grim mass overhead, blotting out the face of the moon. Thunder rumbled. Lightning cut a jagged swath across the sky. Then the sky opened, and the rains poured down.

Arianna's eyes blinked open. Her face still tipped back, she parted her lips as if to taste the raindrops that pummeled her. Slowly she lowered her arms and her head smiling as she sought approval in the faces of her teachers. But instead she found only shock in their eyes.

"I... I did it," she said. I could barely hear her words over the pounding rain.

Shaking her head slowly, the plump one backed away, and quickly walked the perimeter, chanting a closing rite as she did.

' 'Celia? Leandra? Did I... did I do something wrong?''

It was the elder who spoke. "Go home, child. This rite is ended. We'll speak of this on the morrow." She turned and walked back toward the cottage as Arianna stared helplessly after her.

The third gripped Arianna's shoulders. "I hope to heaven you know how to stop it, Arianna. Suppose it goes on until we're all swallowed up by floodwaters?"

Arianna looked wounded, then angry. "If I've the power in me to call forth the rain, then I can certainly halt it. An' I dinna ken why you all act as if you've suddenly discovered a demon in your midst! I only—"

"Celia!" the old one called from the cottage.

With a sigh, Celia turned and walked away, leaving Arianna alone in the deluge she'd summoned forth.

Arianna turned and strode back toward the village, filled with too many emotions to count. Gods! The power that had surged through her! Such a feeling had only come to her once before; as she'd knelt on the shore of that dark-water loch, moved beyond reason to shout her commands to the sky.

She'd made it rain.
She had made it rain!

And yet The Crones had seemed stunned, and almost fearful of her afterward. She'd expected them to beam with pride. It was all very odd, and she had no idea what to think. She only knew she felt powerful. She could wield magick and command the elements to do her bidding. Her hair and her dress were even now soaked through with proof of it!

When Arianna turned to walk along the muddy path to her home, Nicodimus stepped out of the shadows in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest, rust-and-gold hair plastered to his head. "This has to stop, Arianna."

She didn't jump, didn't cry out in surprise at his sudden appearance. She'd sensed him there in the instant before she'd seen him. So she simply stopped walking and stood facing him as the rain continued to beat down upon them both.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, feigning inno-cense.

"You know what I mean. The penalties for Witchcraft are not to be taken lightly. And if you continue on this reckless course, you'll surely be found out."

She tilted her head to one side, studying him. "An' how is it you know about me and my so-called reckless course?''

His eyes, when they probed hers, were piercing and sharp. "I've been watching you."

"Aye, so you have. I wondered if you'd admit it."

He lifted one brow slightly higher than the other. "You knew, then?"

"I have felt your eyes on me more than once since last we spoke." She shrugged. "'Tis all right, Nicodimus. I've watched you, as well."

That seemed to take him by surprise, for he looked up sharply. "Have you?" She nodded. "But why?"

"Why? What a silly question. For the same reason you've watched me, of course. We're connected, you and I. Linked together in some way ... some way I've yet to understand. But you obviously feel it, too. Just as I do." She stared up at him, and when he said nothing, planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. "You're not goin' to deny it, now, are you?"

"I..." He seemed to think deeply before he spoke, his eyes studying her, as if seeing more than anyone else ever had. Or ever could. Pushing his wet hair away from his forehead, he pursed his lips, set his jaw. "I did not come here to speak of such things, Arianna, but to warn you."

"Warn me?" She shrugged. "I fear nothing, Nicodimus, so there's no reason to warn me of anything at all."

"I think there is."

Sighing, she rolled her eyes. "Speak your warning, if you must. I canna promise I'll heed it."

"You'll heed it," he said, and she thought she detected a hint of a threat in his voice. As if he intended to make certain she did. But he didn't say so. "You mustn't visit The Crones anymore," he told her. "There's no more they

can teach you. And already they begin to wonder about you, Arianna. To fear you."

"Fear me? What rubbish, Nicodimus! Why would they—?"

"Because, foolish girl, you're a far more powerful Witch than any of them. More powerful than any Witch they've ever known. They have realized that even if you haven't yet."

His hands closed on her shoulders as he went on. The delicious tingling of his touch rocked her, and she closed her eyes in response, but he barely seemed to notice.

"They brew herbal potions to cure the croup while you cast spells to bring the dead back from their graves! Can you not see the difference?"

She blinked in shock as the import of his words sank in, but she did not pull free of his grip. Somehow he already knew her ultimate goal—something she hadn't dared confess to anyone.

He took his hands away, looking at his palms and shaking his head. He'd felt it, too. That sizzling jolt. That heat that had no place amid this cold, pounding rain.

She swallowed hard and voiced the suspicion she'd always harbored about him. "What do you know of spells, Nicodimus? Dinna tell me you're a Witch yourself."

"What I am or am not is between me and my Creator, Arianna. You'd do well to take a lesson from that."

She shrugged as if she didn't care, but took his refusal to answer as an admission. "Why should I heed your advice if you dinna even trust me enough to tell me your secrets?" she asked.

"I trust no one with my secrets. I have lived too long and seen too much to make that mistake." He studied her eyes for a moment, and his expression seemed to soften. "But I'll tell you a little of what I know, if you will promise to stay away from The Crones from now on."

She lowered her head. "I will promise this much. I shall be more careful, and will think about your warnings."

He dipped his head to search her eyes, seemed to resign himself to the fact that she would promise no more, and

nodded. "All right. Then I'll tell you this much. Your sister will come back one day, Arianna. We
all
come back," he said softly. "The Crones must have taught you that much, at least."

She nodded. "Some would call those words blasphemy, Nicodimus."

"And some would call them truth," he countered. "But you cast a spell when your sister died, didn't you, Arianna? A spell to make her coming back ... different."

"How do you know?"

He lifted a golden brow, tilted his head.

She sighed. "Kenyon an' Lud Lachlan told you how I shouted it to the heavens, did they? I made them swear ne'er to say a word."

He kept his gaze riveted to her eyes, only the raindrops, a misty curtain, between them. "What sort of spell was it, Arianna?"

Closing her eyes, she told him what she'd told no one, not even The Crones. "My sister sank into the cold embrace of that dark water," she said, lowering her head slowly as the pain of that day renewed itself in her soul. "I lay upon the shore, fighting to breathe, choking water from my lungs, searching for her. And Laird Lachlan's sons, Kenyon and Lud, they both went back for her. Frantic, shouting. But I knew she was already gone. I felt it somehow. Like a large, heavy stone where my heart should have been."

Nicodimus sighed, and when she looked up at him, he squeezed her shoulders. "I know the feeling well, child. Go on."

"I felt anger, rage, an' ... something else. Like some other voice tellin' me what to do, only... nay aloud. I heard with my heart, with my soul, nay my ears. I knelt up, an' lifted my fists to the heavens, an' I demanded that my sister be returned to me. Aye, Raven will live again, but when she returns, she'll look the same, and bear the same name, and I'll know her again, for she will come back afore my lifetime is ended. Those are the words I shouted, the commands I sent forth, an' I tell you, Nicodimus, when

I did so I felt as powerful as the Goddess Herself."

Nicodimus expelled his breath. "That is because it was Her power you wielded, Arianna." He turned slightly away from her. "Within your lifetime," he muttered. "Sweet child, if only you knew how long that might be."

"Nicodimus?"

He faced her again, and she searched his eyes, not understanding what he'd meant. But he shook his head at her as if to tell her to forget about it. "Do you have any doubt your spell will be effective?" he asked.

Her chin came up. "None whatsoever."

"And who taught you such a conjure, Arianna?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No one. As I said, it came from ... within me. 'Twas as if the very Queen of Heaven put the words to my lips ... or something."

"Or something indeed." His brows drew together. "You've no need of those village Witches any longer. There is no more they can teach you."

"But there is so much more I need to learn." She sighed heavily, pacing away from him, wringing her wet hands. "I want Raven back
now,
Nicodimus. I canna bear the loneliness without her."

When he didn't answer, she turned to face him again, only to glimpse a bleak expression in his eyes before he managed to shutter them. But deep in his eyes, she could still see a shadow of pain. Rivulets of rainwater ran down his corded neck, dripped from his chin. She wanted to wipe the drops away with her hands. With her lips.

Finally, he whispered, "I know how much it hurts. But there's nothing you can do to make her come back to you any sooner. Believe me, I've searched the world over for such a spell. It doesn't exist."

"Nay, it must," she whispered, clasping the plaid at his chest in her fists, staring up at him, pleading with her eyes.

' 'It doesn't. I would not lie to you about this, nor would I speak the words unless I knew them to be true. There is no way to raise the dead from their graves, Arianna. It
cannot happen."

"Nay ..." Her knees buckled. She collapsed at his feet,

kneeling weakly in the mud. It was as if she'd been hit in the belly by a giant fist, the very breath forced out of her. She couldn't draw any air for a moment. For she knew, instinctively, that he spoke the truth. He wouldn't lie to her, not about this. So there was no way to hasten Raven's return. It was almost as if she'd lost her sister all over again at that moment. For she'd existed on a hope that had suddenly disappeared.