By witchs mark, p.9
By Witch's Mark, page 9
Well, shit. Even Sean was on board.
She had really hoped—much as she was attracted to the pale woman in her goldenrod- and black-striped scarf—that this was going to turn out to be nothing but nonsense after all. She looked down at the golden brown liquid in the short, clear glass.
She had a business to save. And a real life LARP? Well, she hadn’t LARPed in years.
When she raised the glass to her lips for a drink, she noticed Daniel staring at her. Giving her a look, as if he could tell she was squirming again.
He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow, then turned away to talk to Sean.
She ignored Daniel and took a sip of bourbon. It tasted smooth, like caramel, but it burned like fire going down.
Tempest was looking at her now, with those big, dark eyes. And in the middle of the table, the Black Sun glowed dully in the lights of the bar. She wrapped it back up in red tissue paper and shoved it into the gift bag.
No one but Tempest even noticed.
Damn, again. Who did she think she was fooling? She already was in a fucking LARP. Sitting in a tavern with witches and a magic amulet practically wrapped up with a bow.
Preparing to do battle.
21
Tempest
Tempest padded, dressed in slippers, pajamas, and her oversized yellow hoodie, toward the small living room area of her apartment. Yellow had been her favorite color ever since she first read those books about a boy wizard and a magical school. That had been a particularly bad time, when she was on the verge of running again. Those books got her through. They helped her run without running, by taking her away from her life. Tempest had wanted a way to be brave even though she needed her cloak of invisibility in order to remain safe.
Tempest wanted someone or something trustworthy enough to be loyal to.
She didn’t talk about those books much anymore. The author had spoken up publicly too many times in ways that hurt Tempest’s friends—especially people she truly loved and counted on, like Selene. But wrapping herself in yellow was still a comfort. It cheered her up. Gave her courage. Besides, no one could take a story away from a reader. Not even the one who wrote it.
At least, that’s what Selene said when Tempest had asked them about it.
Graymalkin followed her, butting his head against her calf. Curtains closed against the cold winter night, the space was lit with warm light from one of her bedside lamps and a floor lamp donated by her coven mate Lucy, who sometimes got cast-offs from fancy homes who had hired her firm to repaint in the midst of some decorating frenzy.
Tempest was bone tired, but her brain wouldn’t shut up. Ruby had insisted on driving her home, even though it had taken almost as long to walk to where Ruby’s car was parked as it would have taken Tempest to walk home. All the same, she appreciated it. Being followed like that still rattled her nerves.
But another thing that rattled her nerves? Ruby. When they’d pulled up in front of Joshua’s house, and Tempest’s small abode, the woman had actually asked her out.
Like, on a date.
Tempest had flushed, thankful the car was dark and Portland streetlights were notoriously weak and spaced far apart. She’d stammered out some string of words that must have approximated a “yeah, sure,” because next thing she knew, she’d agreed to dinner.
Tempest flopped onto the big brown chair and curled up. As soon as she settled, Graymalkin jumped into her lap, kneaded her thigh for two minutes, then settled into her lap and closed his eyes.
She scratched his head. “Do you think I should go on a date, boy?”
He slitted his orange eyes at her for a second, then closed them again and began to purr.
The date was really the least of her worries. Tempest needed to alert the rest of the coven, but it was—she pulled her phone from her hoodie pocket—eleven o’clock on a Sunday night. Raquel woke up at o-dark-thirty because of the café, and Brenda was probably just heading to bed herself. Besides, everyone had partners and were probably snuggled up, watching movies, or sleeping, or…yeah. Having sex.
That thing that dates were supposed to lead to. That thing Tempest avoided, despite being in her early twenties and everyone assuming.
When you’d had to ward off assholes from age ten on, willingly letting someone get close enough to take your clothes off? Yeah. Right.
And she hadn’t always been successful in warding them off. Hadn’t always gotten away in time. She’d never been actually “raped” but…what had happened to her was bad enough.
She’d never gotten the chance to experiment like other teenagers. Oh, she’d fooled around a tiny bit. Some kissing, mostly. But she’d never willingly taken her clothes off with anyone. She’d always been too scared. Plus, she moved around a lot, and disappeared into the walls as much as possible. It was the only way to keep safe.
But now? With Ruby? Did she want to?
That was the thing. She thought she might want to. But she also got the feeling that Ruby had a ton of experience. What if she didn’t want some inexperienced dork?
Tempest’s eyes roamed toward the small wood table set under the window, with its current backdrop of navy curtains. Her magical tools were arrayed neatly on top. A cup. A blade. An incense burner. A willow wand. A double-bladed knife that she’d paid Brenda one penny for because, even though it was a gift, “You always have to pay for a knife,” her mentor said.
Pride of place, in the center of the altar, was her statue of Diana the Hunter, crescent bow upraised to shoot the moon.
“What do you think, Diana? People say you’re a virgin, too. Brenda and Raquel say that just means a person is complete unto themself. Sovereign. Whole.”
And Selene, Moss, Lucy, and Alejandro all just said that the idea of virginity was a crock of garbage and no one should even use that word anymore.
“Have sex, or don’t have sex,” Moss had said. “But it has nothing to do with your identity or worth. A person who has a lot of sex has just as much worth and sovereignty as someone who hasn’t had any.”
“Virginity? Patriarchal bullshit,” was Selene’s reply.
Tempest smiled. Her coven mates were awesome.
Which brought her wandering thoughts back to the other thing keeping her awake despite having massage clients the next day. Brad Chadwick and that threat he’d leveled at Arrow and Crescent Coven.
And her response. That strange, outpouring of power she’d felt, and then the complete deflation, feeling as if all of her reserves were drained.
“You really should be in bed, asleep,” she told herself. Her fingernails ticked at her phone case. They looked short, but clearly needed a good trim before she got her hands near anyone’s bare skin.
Who could she talk to, this late at night?
Alejandro. He was always up late, and with his partner, Shekinah, and boyfriend, Thomas, there was an equal chance he was either busy or free. Tempest found polyamory funny that way. People always talked about scheduling issues, but in Tempest’s observation, Alejandro was more likely to have a free night than her coven mates with one steady partner, who seemed always spoken for.
She woke up her phone and dialed.
Three rings in, his voice spoke in her ear.
“You’re not busy, are you?”
Graymalkin stretched and resettled in her lap, and Tempest settled in for what might be a long conversation.
She had a lot to explain. And it was clear, the coven really needed to get on board.
As for Ruby and the question of sex?
Well, she guessed she had to get through a proper date first.
She’d never been on one before.
22
Ruby
It was snowing.
Not a heavy, dumping snow like the Pacific Northwest got on the mountain passes, but a light, gentle falling of white dust from the sky. It was gloriously beautiful, and the only reason Ruby was happy to be awake and en route to brunch. She always slept in the day after a con or craft fair, as a reward for working her ass off for several days in a row. Add in the weird drama of the weekend that had started on…Friday? Wow. That seemed like a week ago already. At any rate, between the Patriots at the cidery, Libertarian Satanist Boy showing up at Geeks and Bells, and then chasing Tempest down last night? Ruby was a jittery, queasy combination of exhausted and wired.
Luckily, the vegan brunch spot she was meeting Lawrence at had good coffee with free refills and house-made walnut milk. She wasn’t picky about her dairy-like substances, but quality was quality. Right?
The air smelled fresh. Crisp. The tiny flakes of snow dotted Ruby’s cheeks. She smiled. There was just nothing better than the first snowfall, before the sun had come out and melted it, and then it refroze overnight into a deadly layer of ice. She was thankful for the all wheel drive on her hatchback, that was for sure. She had found a parking spot a few blocks from the restaurant, just down from the Station, where they’d been the night before.
It was funny: Ruby almost never came to this neighborhood, preferring her stomping grounds in the northeast, but all of a sudden, here she was again.
“Some witchy vortex,” she muttered. But her heart beat a little faster at the thought that she just might bump into Tempest on the street. Maybe she was working at the shop today. Ruby would have to ask Lawrence.
She shoved her gloved hands into her coat pockets and felt something that shouldn’t be there.
Damn it. It was the folded-up gift bag with the amulet. In all the confusion and weirdness of last night, Daniel hadn’t taken it.
Whipping out her phone, she tapped out a text.
En route. Need to talk to Daniel, too. OK to invite?
Three tiny dots bubbled up on the screen.
Sure. If he’s around.
Ruby grinned. Daniel was as a notorious slut as she was. Or she had been, until recently. He very well might be otherwise occupied on a freaking cold Monday morning. Or he might be at work, though she didn’t think so. She seemed to recall that he had Mondays off for some reason.
Great. Almost there.
She fired off a text to Daniel. If he couldn’t meet her this morning, maybe they could get together that night. Tempest had said she had some coven thing to go to but had promised to set a time for a date soon.
Ruby really hoped that was true.
23
Tempest
The snow was just wonderful, just right for a post-brunch, Monday walk.
Tempest had wrapped her huge scarf three times around her neck. Between that and her matching wool watch cap pulled down as far as it would go, most of her face was covered. She had on long underwear, jeans, boots, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a fleece zip-up, all so she could wear her vintage leather coat. The warmer insulated coat was a lot more practical, but Tempest felt more like herself in the short, vintage bomber jacket.
And today? She desperately needed to feel like herself.
With almost no cars on Hawthorne, she and her coven mate Selene may as well have been walking in a small village. Stiff red ribbons decorated the lamp posts, and shop windows were painted with holly or edged with fake frost. The bare-limbed trees were dusted in white, as were the shop awnings and the few cars parked along the sidewalk. They passed a proprietor setting out a no-slip mat in front of the door to a botanicals shop. Twinkle lights lined the shop window, glowing brightly.
“Good morning!” the shopkeeper said.
They responded in kind and kept going.
“I don’t get what the problem is,” Selene continued, picking up the thread of conversation they’d started over eggs and toast at Dish and Spoon. “With Ruby, I mean, not with the asshole stalker. The coven definitely needs to deal with that.”
Selene looked gorgeous as always. They’d spent the night at Joshua’s place, so it had been easy to score the last-minute breakfast date, since that meant Selene was literally down the driveway from Tempest’s garage abode, and close to Dish and Spoon. They were walking now because, though brunch had been delicious and they’d lingered over second cups of coffee, Selene had more to say.
Selene’s lips were painted a deep plum this morning, in contrast with their snowy white skin. Eyes lined in kohl, eyebrows plucked into arches, black scarf wound around their neck beneath a long, black wool coat. While others in the coven wore a wide variety of colors, Selene was a Goth femme to the core.
The non-binary witch’s energy always made Tempest feel at ease. Where other coven members worried about Tempest—or wanted to help her improve some of her life conditions—sometimes they could act like annoying parental units.
Selene wasn’t as young as Tempest and Moss but was in the middle ground of ages along with Tobias. The others edged toward their forties or were firmly in the middle of them.
Being the youngest member of the coven, Tempest didn’t want to always feel like the baby, or the mascot, or the one who needed to be taken care of. Dealing with her illness and her past was enough. She didn’t need to always stave off people’s worry, too, much as she knew they loved her.
Sometimes she wanted to be around someone who just let her be. Selene was that person.
“So, what are you afraid of with this situation? If she’s into you, and you’re into her, what’s the harm in just going on a date? Check things out.”
The continuous light dusting had grown thick enough on the sidewalk for their boots to leave impressions.
“That all makes sense. You know. In my head,” Tempest replied. “But gah! People like her just freak me out! She’s so…bright. Confident. Sure of herself.”
“And? You’re pretty terrific yourself, Tempest. You care about people. You’re working hard on your massage business…”
“I’m a sickly, shy dork of a witch. And I’m a virgin!” She hissed out that last word, sending a puff of steam into the frigid air.
Selene stopped in their tracks and turned toward Tempest, causing a bundled-up man to veer suddenly around them.
“I thought we talked about that. About what patriarchal bullshit that is. It’s your body, you do what you want with it, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“So you say. But who the hell hasn’t had sex by my age?” Tempest’s face burned so hot she was sure she could melt snow. The coffee and eggs roiled uneasily in her stomach. Damn it. She hadn’t had a panic attack in a year. She really didn’t want one now. She willed herself to breathe.
Selene just shrugged as if they didn’t notice that Tempest was freaking out. They resumed walking. “I’m sure there are plenty of people. Look, I get that the thought of physical intimacy when you haven’t really gone there before could seem intimidating. I don’t want to make light of that. But, if not with this person, who sounds pretty great, then who?”
“I don’t know.” Now Tempest felt like she was whining, but at least the sense of panic had died down. “I guess you’re right. So, you think I should go on this date?”
Selene shot her another glance. “It’s up to you, but yeah. I think you should.”
As they walked, the snow had stopped, and the clouds cleared just enough for the sun to break through. The street was truly gorgeous now. And so was…
“Oh my Goddess!” Tempest stopped, then stepped out of the way of a parent pushing a tricked-out jogging stroller. Her mouth was dust dry. Walking down the street, just a few blocks away, was a woman with hair as dark as Selene’s poking out from beneath a cherry-red wool hat. It was Ruby. Her head was bent toward her phone. Texting. Good. That meant she hadn’t seen them yet.
What was she doing in the neighborhood on a Monday morning? She lived in northeast, right?
“What? What happened?” Selene looked around, confusion wrinkling their forehead.
“It’s her.”
“Really? Which one? Red hat?”
Tempest just nodded, riveted in place.
“Oooh. She is cute. Dang, girl!” Selene bumped Tempest with their hip, which, given Selene’s height, hit her waist.
Damn it, Diana! Tempest knew she needed to deal with this situation. She knew she needed to suck it up and invoke some courage. But she really did not think she was going to have to deal right now.
Or maybe she didn’t.
Ruby paused in front of a restaurant, looked in the window, then swung open the door.
Crisis averted.
“This feels like serendipity, doesn’t it?” Selene asked. “Shall we go say hi?”
“No way,” Tempest replied.
Selene looked at her, one sharp black eyebrow raised. “Does this mean you aren’t going to agree to a date?”
Tempest threw up her hands. “All right! All right! I’ll text her. Set something up! I promise!”
Selene laughed, the sound bright, crackling through the cold winter air.
Tempest felt slightly ill. And excited. Butterflies? Is that what people were always talking about?
Yeah. Here, on a freezing cold Portland sidewalk, with her coven mate laughing at her, she felt butterflies as if it were spring.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled it out with gloved fingers.
“It’s Moss.”
The smile slid off of Selene’s face.
“What’s he say?”
Tempest looked at the words on her phone, butterflies replaced by the ice of fear.
“He did some research on my stalker. It might be worse than we thought.”
“And?
“He wants to meet up, but I can’t. I have two clients today!”
She ripped off her gloves with her teeth and thumbed her message back, staring at the small screen until his reply came back.
“He’ll give us a full report tonight. Coven meeting. Another damn emergency coven meeting right before a major holiday.” She looked at Selene, whose plum-coated mouth tipped down into a frown. “When will this stuff let up? We’ve barely had a break.”
