Returned (11 page)

He turned around as the light came on.  Eli stepped aside to reveal two people.

“This is Clay Barnes and Clio Merle, they are members of your coven.”

Clay stepped forward and bowed to him.

Jack smoothed out the slightly shocked expression that had jumped onto his face.

“Merry meet.”

“Errrrmmmm… yeah, right back at ya.”

Bowing and a different language? This night was about to become a whole lot stranger.

Clay stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark ripped jeans, a royal blue shirt covered his large, muscular frame. His dirty blonde hair hung loose, strands of it just hitting his should
ers. His green eyes studied him;
he could sense them on him as his gaze moved towards Clio.

             
Clio bowed as Clay had done. She was dressed from head to toe in a ruby red robe. Her brown hair infused with several highlights of honey was pulled back into a messy bun
;
her straight cut fringe shaped her face highlighting her high cheekbones and exotic amber eyes.

“Merry meet, Jack,” she said smiling at him.

“Merry meet.” The words felt rather strange coming out of his mouth but he made an effort regardless.

“Do we hold meetings regularly?”

Please say no, please say no
, he silently begged.

“No, we generally meet once a year but we have to meet when a new leader comes into a coven.”

He let out a relieved sigh and followed the three of them as they made their way to the back garden. Eli stopped in front of the group and opened the shed door. He couldn't see what was happening behind Clay and Clio but he couldn't believe that a meeting took place here. What was wrong with the kitchen table?

             
As Clay and Clio followed Eli into the shed he stepped forward, his mouth dropped open in shock. The lawn mower still stood dormant in the cobwebbed corner. The mud caked tools hung precariously on the rusted nails but a huge gaping hole occupied the floor that Jack swore was unfamiliar. He could see a staircase, one that sunk into complete darkness.  He followed them with a huge grin on his face.

THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A BORING MEETING

Darkness washed over him as he followed the sound of footsteps. Amongst the sound of their feet he caught the sound of water. His heart kicked around in his chest. He had several fears, had listed them in accordance to which was the worst. His second fear was currently screaming at him, drowning. He started gasping for breath before he could control it. He attempted to casually look around trying to find a way out. If the water rose he could suspend himself in the air but for how long? The inevitable would happen.

             
Before he could ask where they were, the group came to a stop and then a light snapped on giving him his first view. A large room, square in shape housed a table, chairs and several cabinets. Thousands of little square shelves were scattered over every inch of wall space. On each shelf sat many small bottles. He stepped to the nearest display, fascinated by the mix of colours in one small ornament. Pinks and yellows meshed together as they curved along a delicate petal. Light built into the shelf illuminated the bottle which threw out a mix of pastel colours in to the room.

“Jack, we're ready.”

             
He turned and realised they were waiting for him. Making his way to the last chair available, he got his first real look at the table. Engraved in the middle of the table was a symbol, a circle with the odd star shape thing. He had seen it before but he couldn’t remember what it was called, it obviously had something to do with witchcraft. His genius deduction came from the fact that he himself was a witch.

             
He slumped into a chair and saw the three of them looking expectantly back at him. What did they expect him to do? Balance on his head and juggle?  His index finger brushed against the table as he shifted in his seat. Looking down he saw symbols that were engraved in the old wood.

“Jack, that lettering is your family name in Old English. It has been engraved in this table since 1612 waiting for you to take your place.”

“And what exactly is my place?” He looked at Clay as he was the one who had spoken to him.

“You are the High Priest of your coven,” Eli answered.

His head whipped towards Eli in shock.

“What?”

“Your mother was High Priestess. Anne was placed second and you were to follow. You take the role because you are the last member of your family.”

That was poor reasoning. What if he couldn’t take
on
the role? How did they know he was good enough? “Eli, you were married to Anne. You can do it.”

Their laughter filled the room but he didn’t laugh with them. Instead he felt the first stirrings of anger move around his gut. Gripping the table he closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, held it in his cheeks and then puff
ed
it out.

“Jack, can you stop doing that?”

His head shot up, he realised the laughter had died and saw why. The entire table was levitating.

“You have a very powerful gift, Jack.” Clio’s voice was soft, appraising.

He smiled at her but his eyes were focused on Eli’s face. He felt the relief, a heavy weight he didn’t know he’d harboured, leave his body when he caught the twitch in Eli’s lips and the smile in his eyes.

             
Jack felt the tug and pull as his power weaved in and around the people and the table trying to bring them down safely. The table landed with a thump as they touched down on the floor awkwardly.

“Need to work on the landing,” he chuckled.

“Yes, you still need to work on your gift,” Eli remarked. “But you also need to stop letting your anger rule you. It gets you into trouble, just look where your temper has got you so far.” Eli gave him
the look;
it was the kind a parent would give to their misbehaving child.

He knew such a look.

The look usually came just before gut wrenching pain.

“Are you ready for your induction, High Priest?”

Jack coughed to clear his throat which suddenly felt very tight. “Yes.”

“Clay, if you will.” Eli gestured with his hand.

Clay bent to the floor and then stood holding several thick candles in his hands. Moving around the table in a clock wise direction, he placed a candle on each corner of the star inside the circle. Clay then moved around the table, now anti-clockwise, and lit each. Tiny flames sparked instantly burning a brilliant deep red. 

             
The flames from the candles danced higher, the tips licking hungrily at the ceiling. Clay placed two gold candles in front of him and then walked back to his chair and placed a tarnished dish on the table. Holding his hands palm up and resting them on the table, Clay looked like he was ready to begin. Jack held his breath. His heart was racing with excitement.

“O God within, I am created from your essence. I thank you for the gift I hold dear within me. I offer you my gift on this night in welcome of our new Priest who has joined us at long last. Blessed Be.”

Clay moved his left hand over the bowl once and laid it back on the table. Jack sat bolt upright in his chair to look in the bowl. The bowl was now brimming with water but he held back the rush of questions.

             
Movement from Clio caught his attention. Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the dish he watched as Clio placed her hands in her robes. He felt giddy just thinking about what Clio would do.  Would she produce a sword and go all samurai on them? She looked like the sort, lean, dangerous, sexy. She pulled out her hand and dusted her side of the table with small red crystals. What could crystals do?

“O God within, I am created from your essence. Nourish me with your love. I hold your earth’s power in my heart. I offer this gift in welcome of our new Priest. Blessed Be.”

He felt the earth respond to her. Little tremors vibrated becoming greater in strength. Was that an earthquake? She could create earthquakes? His chair started moving; his hands grasped the table for support as his heart leapt into his throat. He had a feeling if this continued the room was going to cave in. A new terrifying fear rushed to the forefront of his mind. Death by earthquake.

Her gift was amazing despite his fear.

“O God within, I am created from your essence. I offer you my gift as a celebration of this night. We welcome our new Priest, my brother.” Eli stopped speaking and looked at him.

A lump the size of London dropped heavily in his throat.  He had a brother, a family. He'd never had a family, one to make sure he was safe and cared for. Pushing past the iron lump in his throat and ignoring the burn behind his eyelids, he smiled at Eli.

Eli continued. “My gift to you is the athame. May you accept this gift with my love and protection. Blessed Be.”

             
Something flew across the room and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the table. He barely managed to stop himself from jumping out of his seat. It was a knife, and not any old knife by the look of it. The long handle was death black and encrusted with jagged glittering red crystals. The blade, at least ten inches long, flashed dangerously in the red candle light, the blood red dripping within the mirror of the blade.

             
Nerves flitted madly in his chest making it difficult to breathe. What was he meant to say? The knife floated silently down to the table, Eli never touched it. They turned their attention away from their own gifts to look at him. He clasped his sweaty hands together and wrung them mimicking the way his stomach knotted.

“Errmmm… O God within, I am created from your essence.” He'd so far copied the other three. What could he say? He could quote a song? He tried to think of a song, any song would do. His mind gave him a fat lot of nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he just spoke the first words that came to mind. “Thank you for the gift you gave to me, I hope I can be successful as your High Priest. Blessed Be.”

As speeches went, his wasn’t the greatest. He lifted his hands and pushed himself and the candles into the air. The candles swirled around him. He grabbed his power and forced the candles to fly faster. Speed would make sure this worked. With one great push they rushed into the middle of the table and collided. Wax shattered cascading like glitter to the table. Flames took hold of the tiny pieces and as they landed on the table he was satisfied to see the symbol set on fire. The larger candles sparked to life, the flames shooting higher and higher. He descended and once he landed Eli held his hand as they chanted, “So may it be.”

             
The flames died leaving them in instant darkness. The lights came back on. His gift had listened to him so had made him look good. He should feel happy but instead he had to sit not trusting his legs, he felt too cold. His teeth were already threatening to smash together. He lowered his head taking deep breaths. Now that he was focused on his breathing it was becoming more erratic. Pain did it too. Once you became aware of something that hurt, it would escalate by a million.

Sod’s Laws.

He wheezed a little but tried to do it silently, he didn't want the others thinking he couldn't handle the situation. He couldn't handle it, he was hyperventilating. But he still didn’t want them to know.

“Jack?”

He looked up as Eli approached him. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and gave a very limp smile.

“We’re finished here and I'm sure you're shattered, it's past your bedtime, little brother,” Eli teased him whilst he put an arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Less of this little brother business,” Jack smiled and stood on shaky legs.

Clay and Clio moved in unison in front of him ready to bow or do whatever it was that they did.

“Whoa… okay look, stop with the bowing business, it’s the 21
st
century and I’m not the King, so just
please
stop.”

Clay laughed whilst Clio smiled, she still bowed.

             
As he battled a jaw cracking yawn, he listened to the three excitedly discuss spells. He took this time to think of what he'd lost and how drastically his life had changed.

He was a witch.

His family had been murdered.

             
If he accepted who he was that would make him the son of a witch. It took less than a second for him to decide that he would rather be the son of a witch than the son of that low life who’d apparently been his father. Because he accepted this change in his life, his next port of call was to seek revenge for their unnecessary murders.