Virginia, USA
I should have known something was amiss when the drive out to the bonfire took over an hour. By the time we found the place, after too many U-turns, we were out in The Boonies. Not your usual run of the mill boonies. Oh no. I mean The, capital T, Boonies, capital B. The woods were thicker than cooling blood and the roads were more like tire ruts. There were fields on either side of the “road” with barbwire fences seemingly protecting some sort of head-high weed. Maybe it was wheat, or barley. I really don’t know. The bottom line is that it was dark, and I was driving in the middle of nowhere with no way to turn around unless I plowed over fence and some poor farmer’s crops. Don’t think for a second that wasn’t prepared to do just that. Here I am, a creature of the night, and I’m getting twitchy about riding in a car with two witches. In the middle of nowhere after getting lost half a dozen times. On a dirt road. And I’m heading God knows where.
“Turn here!” said my newest friend, pointing up a long driveway. If I couldn’t see perfectly in this moonlit darkness, I might have told her where she could stick her “turn here!” But, I could see just fine. Down the drive, in the distance, stood a house. It looked as though there might be a fire burning beyond said domicile. So, up the drive we went, gravel crunching under the tires. There was a late model pickup parked on the gravel close to the house. The license read “XXMAJIK.” Cute.
I parked the car on the crass next to the truck and looked at the house that stood on the hill about 50 yards from the fire. I know next to nothing about architecture, but the place looked normal, if not a bit old. It was probably built in the 70s, I guessed. The 1970s. Let me clear that up. The house was a three-story affair, but I think the third floor was more of an attic. It had windows, though. Sort of like the Amityville house. Sort of. I opened the car door and was greeted by the growling of a medium sized boxer mix. He just stood there, hackles raised, growling deeply in his throat and bearing a wicked set of teeth. I hissed and flashed him mine. The animal yelped and scampered off toward the fire and the people surrounding it.
“Show off,” said my former companion. “Be nice to the doggy, he’s a sweetie.” She smiled, sweetly.
“Remember, love,” I replied, “I haven’t fed, tonight. Annoying dog works for me, unless you want to volunteer.” Her smile slowly faded as the look in my eyes left no doubt that I wasn’t joking.
There were several women gathered around the bonfire. They were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. A very festive atmosphere, I suppose. I wasn’t feeling very festive. It was that I-can’t-sense-the-witches thing, again. If it wasn’t bad enough that I had traveled here with two of them, now I was in the middle of a veritable gaggle. Well, I guess the correct term would be “coven.” What the hell do I know about such things? I’m still getting the hang of the fact that I have to drink blood and sunlight immolates me. I’m certainly not studying the Idiot’s Guide to Witches and Witchcraft on a daily basis.
I could hear the water flowing between the rock and mud banks as soon as I had opened the car door. There must have been a rain shower upstream, as the current seemed rather fast.
Between the river and the house, about fifty feet from the fire, there was a telescope on the lawn. A portly woman was peering into the side of the scope and loudly urging us to “Come see the comet!” I was keeping my eye on the dog by the fire as we three walked toward the scope. My former companion leaned over to look into the sightglass.
“Is that it right there?” She asked.
“Yes! Yes!” the portly woman, exclaimed. Right next to the last star in Orion’s belt!”
“Yep, I see it.” Stated my once-and-never snack. She was lying. Witch or no witch, I didn’t need a 6th sense to tell me that. I looked up, being somewhat familiar with the night sky. The “comet” she was referring to was actually a dimmer star that is within the constellation. It’s been there for as long as I’d been going to sea. Most likely, it has been there much, much longer.
After placating the stargazing woman, we moved to the fire. By and large, being what I am, I am not a big fan of fires. Any who knows of my awakening to the dark life will certainly understand why. The blaze cracked and streams of small orange embers leaped into the air. They swirled into the night sky on the updraft created by the heat of the flames. Occasionally, larger bits of charred wood; leaves or bark would emerge with a sharp crack and arc away from the central pyre. These flaming bits would start off brilliantly, trailing smoke and light. Their glow would die slowly as they arced to the grass around the bonfire. Sometimes, one of these embers would land between or near one of the sets of gathered feet circling the firebreak that had been created for the blaze. One in a while, the feet would be mine.
Apparently, my discomfort did not go unnoticed by the assembled gaggle. Excuse me…coven. Does 5 witches equal a coven? I’d have to check my Idiots guide. Someone elbowed me and I came out of my reverie. “Don’t let the fire bother you, hon. we won’t let you burn.” The someone was my former companion. “Why don’t you go look at the comet?” I replied with a sneer. She took a half step away from me. Sneering with fangs has that effect, I guess. I chuckled.
I was introduced to two other women who were warming their corpulent forms by the blaze. They were settled comfortable into lawn chairs and smiling. Smiling like cats looking into a fish tank. They seemed pleasant and we talked for quite a while. The highlight came when they began trading religious jokes and anecdotes. I’ll say this; pagans have some great Catholic jokes. They were all roasting marshmallows and I was beginning to settle into the festivities. They were quite pleasant and even the dog was allowing me to throw a stick for him. He was only growling once in a while, and usually when I would fake the throw.
I had just launched the stick into the darkness for the hundredth time when I sensed something behind me. Not everyone here had the metaphysical shielding that the witches shared. The intent of the new arrival washed over me with the forces of a cold, hard wind. I realized that my reaction was too late as I noticed a thin, pale arm snake quickly across my chest from behind.
Pain exploded through the center of my being. All conversation stopped and someone yelled “Cassie, no!” I looked down, and as the bolts of agony that had coursed through my body began to subside, I saw a young girl move around me and into view. She was maybe fourteen. She has blond hair, braided to hand down over each shoulder. My eyes moved from her hair, down her arm and to ended at her delicate hand. Her fingers were still wrapped firmly around the broomhandle that protruded from the bleeding hole in my chest.
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