I rolled my eyes. "Well, yeah, that's why witches rhyme," I said, "Because it just works."
"Any of you know any good rhymes we can use?" Damien asked Frank.
Frank cocked his head and raised both eyebrows. "Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I know how to rhyme. Or sing. Or even dance."
"Okay," I said, after a moment, "Let's try this. Hands again, please."
We joined again, closed our eyes, and allowed a moment for our minds to float again. Then, as though the words had been living in the back of my mind the whole time, I said: "We call upon a God so great, amidst a very sacred date, to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast. To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile, we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour."
At the edge of my aura a trickle of energy poked at my own. It was a curious energy, like a cat deciding whether or not to let me pet it. I wondered if my incantation took hold but didn't dare open my eyes; just in case. I had learned a thing or two about how to react to Magick phenomenon and knew well enough to remain still and not spook it.
Spook it. As if Magick could be spooked.
"Nothing's happened," Damien said.
"What time is it?" I said.
"Eleven fifty eight."
Wow.
"Creepy," Frank said. "Uncanny, even. The girl's a natural."
I wasn't aware of the time before Damien had mentioned it. Using the witching hour in the rhyme just felt… natural. Somehow. Or maybe I was good at rhyming? Regardless, I still wouldn't open my eyes. The energy was there, tip-toeing around me, invisible, and I allowed it to continue undisturbed.
"Can you guys feel that?" I asked.
"Feel what?" Frank asked.
I guess that's a no.
"I feel... something," Damien said. We were all still holding hands. Between us, a current was starting to pass. His fingers were starting to feel rubbery against my own, as if one of us were plugged into a wall socket.
"Do you know the incantation?" I asked the other witches, "Can you repeat it?"
"I think so," Frank said.
Damien also agreed.
"Alright, let's do it three times. I'll start, we'll do it row-your-boat style."
A pause, a breath, and I started the rhyme again. Frank and Damien joined in on cue and our voices became a unified rhyme, echoing off the attic walls. This time, I knew, something would happen. I had no idea what exactly would happen–but it would be big.
We call upon a God so great, amidst a very sacred date, to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast. To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile, we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour.
I had finished my first lap of the entire rhyme when it started. The reliable SS Amber Lee, floating along the vast ocean of my consciousness, never soared to the skies or sank to the depths unless I willed it to. She never ran aground, never veered off course, and her crew never mutinied against her captain.
Until now.
We call upon a God so great amidst a very sacred date…
My meditation ship sighted land and raced toward it as if pulled by some kind of massive force. I tried to steer it back on course, but my will faltered. A trickle of exhilaration found its way to the base of my spine and was starting to creep, like a pair of warm hands—a lover's hands—around my abdomen.
… to bless us with a mighty feast of wine and bread and beast.
Every word that came out of my mouth sent a little vibration pulsing into the warm, wet space between my legs. I couldn't sit still! The vast ocean looked, now, more like a flat stomach—Damien's stomach—and the ship was a pair of fingers, a set of lips, and a tongue. Lapping, tasting.
To Dagda of the Irish Isle, God of Earth with charming smile…
Time began to grind to a halt. Each word I spoke felt like it had been spoken an hour apart from the last one. Days apart. Worlds apart. In the space between them there was only Damien and hunger, lust, want, need—close. Lips, tongue, breasts, groans, rhythms, heartbeats, desire—so close!
…we gently do invoke thy power; be with us on the witching hour.
My eyes snapped open. I bit my lip and turned my face away, though I was sure the others had seen the sudden flush to my cheeks. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they had kept their eyes closed the whole time and hadn’t seen what had just happened to me. But I was a throbbing, aching mess, and I hadn't even been touched! What the hell was that about?
Blood was racing to my cheeks, flushing them with a warm glow. Frank and Damien were staring, now, although Frank had a sneaky grin on his face as if he was in on my little secret. And maybe he was. Frank had a knack for knowing things he wasn't supposed to know, and I felt like an open book to him even when I was at my most composed.
"Are you okay?" Damien asked.
"Yeah," I said. Breathe deep and slow. "I'm fine, why?"
"You trailed off at the end."
"Did... we finish?"
"One of us did," Frank said. Oh, Frank. He knew. Of course he did.
"We finished," Damien said, nodding.
"And... what time is it?"
Damien checked. 12:02am.
"Now what?" I asked. I let my shoulders drop, bid my body to relax, and leaned back on the pillows beneath my butt. But boy if I wasn't looking at Damien like a dog eying a piece of meat. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so... so... turned on. I blew a kiss to Damien when caught me staring and he smiled.
"Now," Frank said, "We do this."
He grabbed a plastic cup, dipped it into the empty cauldron, and scraped around at the bottom. He looked determined, concentrated, like a miner digging into a hole he knew was full of riches if only he could reach deep enough. Of course, the cauldron had a bottom, but after a moment I couldn't hear the sound of his cup touching the iron, and Frank's hand was stuck in there all the way to the elbow!
"Frank?" I asked.
"Schh," he said, and when he pulled his hand back his cup was filled with a sloshy, cinnamon scented liquid.
"Uhh... what is that?" Damien asked.
Frank brought his nose to the rim of the cup, took a whiff. "Spiced cider," he said.
"But… where...?" I didn't finish the question. It was a stupid question. Of course it came from inside the cauldron; I just didn't know how it was even possible for spiced cider to just manifest out of thin air.
"What did we just do?" I asked.
Frank took a sip of the drink and smiled, satisfied. "Just a little magick at midnight," he said. “Wanna do some more?”
Continue the story! Buy Dark Witch on Amazon now!
Also by Katerina Martinez
The Blood and Magick Series
Book 1: Magick Reborn
Book 2: Demon’s Kiss
Book 3: Blood Witch (coming soon)
The Half-Lich Series
Book 1: Dark Siren
Book 2: The Void Weaver
Book 3: Night and Chaos
The Amber Lee Series
Book 1: True Witch
Book 2: Dark Witch
Book 3: Shadow Witch
Book 4: Red Witch
Book 5: Feral Witch
Katerina Martinez, True Witch
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